


The Wrath of Heaven

by dkthunderIV



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Romance(s), Multi, Nonbinary Lavellan - Freeform, Original Character(s), Rating May Change, Story Overhaul, eventual polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkthunderIV/pseuds/dkthunderIV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan has gotten themselves into some shit now. First they're sent to a shem summit to try and play spy, then the damn place explodes, and now their arm is green and glowing and painful. And everyone always wants to blame the elf for the tragedies.<br/>Ongoing series of Inquisitor Elliott Lavellan, their adventures, their family, and their triumph.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Herald's Folly

Whispers and skittering rouse the elf, unconscious amidst rubble. Long dreadlocks, fine and golden, brush the ground after being knocked out of a neat tie. Their left hand crackles in a burst of green light, illuminating their dark skin, sending fire through their veins and a bitter taste through their mouth. They brush a section of hair aside, pushing themselves off the ground and taking a look around.

Spiders skid into view behind them, pincers clacking hungrily.

“ _Shit_ ,” they screech, voice hoarse. They take a running start towards crumbling stairs, climbing up a sharply increasing incline while a spider tries to bite their boot off. Rocks crumble underneath their unsteady grip, and they feel like they might fall. A look back proves that the spiders are still chasing.

A hand is held out to them at the top of the stairs, illuminated by a divine light. They take it, and black out immediately.

* * *

When they awake, the room is infinitely colder.  They lay collapsed on their knees in gravel, head to the floor, hands bound uncomfortably in their lap.  With a groan, they turn their aching head to the side, trying to figure out where they are while their vision swims.  Their left arm cracks like heat lightning, leaving them writhing in pain.

Roughly, they’re tugged up by the hair, and a knife is pointed in their face.  A sharp looking human woman stares them down, all hard angles and sheer intimidation.  The elf shakes, but can’t help but laugh.

“Not the first time this has happened,” they rasp, before coughing harshly.  The human’s eyes narrow, and her grip tightens.

“Name and rank,” she growls.  They don’t respond, eyes a little glazed.  Dried blood dots the corner of their lips.  The human pulls harder. “ _Answer me_.”

“Elliott,” they finally respond. Their vision starts to clear, and they can spot another human woman in the background, a little bit rounder and softer looking, but intimidating in a different way while swathed in darkness. With her are a half dozen armed guards. Elliott swallows. “Keeper’s First of Clan Lavellan.  I was sent to the Divine’s summit as a spy.”

“So?  Did your keeper tell you to blow up the Conclave?”

“What-”

“The Temple of Sacred ashes is destroyed, Lavellan,” she says, disgusted.  She lets go of their hair, sending them tumbling to the ground, smacking their head against the gravel. “You’re the only survivor.  Pray tell, _why is that?_ ”

“What?... They’re all?...”

“And what does _this_ mean?” The sharp woman grabs their left hand.  It crackles again for effect, and they eye it in horror.

“I can’t _remember_ ,” they shout, almost pleading.

“ _You’re lying!_ ”

“Cassandra.” The sharp human whips around, glaring at the soft human. Cassandra lets herself be pushed away by the soft human. Elliott swallows thickly when they notice the large dagger tucked into her lightly plated boot. “We need her.”

“... Creators. All those people… dead?” Elliott stares at the ground, praying for guidance.

Now the humans share a look, before staring intently at the elf. Cassandra slowly circles around Elliott like prey.

“Are you sure you can’t remember anything?” the soft human says, trying to lure Elliott into a sense of false security. They can feel Cassandra’s eyes on the back of their head, burning holes. “How this began?”

“I remember… running. Things were chasing me. Like spiders.” Elliott shivers in disgust. “And then… a woman?”

“A woman?” The soft human leans forward, interested.

“She reached out to me, but then…” They sigh, lost for words. Even after thinking on it excruciatingly hard, they can’t remember a second more.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” Cassandra finally interjects, placing a hand on the soft human’s shoulder. “I will take her to the rift.”

Leliana leaves with a nod, slinging a bow and quiver over her shoulders. Cassandra bends down in front of Elliott, unlocking the shackles and tying their hands with a sturdy rope.

“What did happen?” they ask. Cassandra looks them in the eye, and then helps them up.

“It would be easier to show you.”


	2. Procession of the Angry Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliott is taken outside, Cassandra is disgruntled, a third player joins the party.

Cassandra leads them outside. The lights blind Elliott for a moment, but the blurriness in their eyes fades, and they look up. What greets them is horribly apocalyptic; the sky, with a tear that measures several miles across. They strain to look closer, and they notice demons, comets, rocks, spirits and what-have-you falling straight out of it. The sight is nearly enough to make them pass out again.

“What is _that?_ ” they mutter, horrified. Taking a moment to look around, they see all sorts of people of multiple races trying to make do in camps. They begin to notice Elliott, and sneer.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” says Cassandra, sullenly. “Or what’s left of it. Some think the explosion came from the rift. Others…”

Cassandra glares at Elliott. In the light, they take a better look; the impeccable posture and poise of a hardened warrior, and all the stubbornness of a great bear. They recognize the symbol on her armor; the Seekers, renowned for bringing halting order wherever they went.The elf scowls.

“You _still_ think I did--” The rift pulses in the distance, dazzlingly bright. Elliott recoils as the energy echoes in their arm, sending them tumbling to the ground with a cry.

“Until evidence is presented otherwise, yes, I _do_ ,” the Seeker replies frankly. “But I find it suspect that you marked yourself in the process. It is killing you.”

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed,” they mutter irritably. “What are you going to do, Seeker? Take me to be hanged?”

Again, Cassandra helps them up. _This shem is so frustratingly **complicated**_ , Elliott thinks, being tugged gently along a path of angry refugees.

“No,” she says, and not a word more.

The refugees are understandably angry. They need a scapegoat, and the elf is a perfect one for all intents and purposes. Elliott is screamed at, spit at, thrown rocks at, and pushed around. Right before the gate, they’re pushed to the ground and kicked. Used to this kind of treatment, Elliott sits and takes it, but Cassandra stops it before it gets worse, glaring at the attacker and helping the elf up yet again, taking them behind a tall gate.

Once the doors are closed, she produces a small knife and saws Elliott free of their ropes. The elf stares at their free hands, utterly confused.

“Why--”

“I needed to appease the people,” she says simply. “And you need to see what happened.”

They are promptly sidetracked by an dark haired elf near the end of the path, pacing nervously. She’s dressed in heavy dalish armor, toting a sword almost as long as she is tall. Simple branches under her eyes serve as vallislin, looking similar to Elliott’s more complex design. Upon noticing Cassandra with Elliott in her custody, the elf looks up and scowls. A near match to Elliott's.

“So I see you’ve decided not to kill my sibling, shem,” she says lowly, brushing past the Seeker. Cassandra takes it in stride, brushing shoulders with the dalish warrior. “ _Aneth ara_ , Elliott, did she hurt you?”

“ _Anetha ara_. No, Issy, I’m fine,” Elliott responds coolly, taking their sister’s hand. “I’m being taken to the tear.”

“I’ll come with you,” she says, squeezing their hand. “I’ve sent word to our keeper. Nothing back yet, but Zath sent a falcon, the family is okay.”

“Good,” they sigh, hanging their head in relief. “That’s all I needed to know.”

“And this is?” Cassandra asks, warily. The warrior glares at the Seeker, who glares back.

“My sister,” Elliott says proudly.

“Iseris Lavellan,” the warrior adds coolly. Despite the hostility in the air, she extends her hand to Cassandra.

“... Seeker Pentaghast,” she responds, taking the warrior’s hand in a firm shake. “We should continue on to the rift, then.”

For a few moments, they begin crossing the long bridge together in silence, Elliott and Iseris walking hand in hand, Cassandra stalking forward some ways ahead. Curiosity got the better of Elliott as they sparingly looked up at the hole in the sky.

“... What _did_ happen, Seeker?” they ask quietly.

“You know what the Conclave was for, yes?” Elliott nods solemnly, and Cassandra looks away, walking forward towards the next gate. Once they’re over the bridge and into the snow again, she continues. “The Divine tried to broker peace between the mages and templars. There was an explosion, and it leveled the Temple. Except for you.”

As if by cue, the rift pulses again, sending the elf to the ground in pain. Iseris immediately moves to Elliott’s side, taken aback by their reaction. She waits for the moment to pass, and helps her sibling up.

“How did I even stay alive this long?” they ask desperately. Cassandra does not answer, and continues along the path. Elliott nervously looks to Iseris, who tries their best to calm their anxious sibling.

They approach the next bridge, sparse except for a few ground soldiers. The party of three makes it halfway across before a comet comes hurtling to the ground to destroy it.

Elliott temporarily blacks out. When they awake, Iseris and Cassandra stand ready across from demons, screeching in despair. A wooden pole jabs them in the hip, and to their luck, they discover that it’s a staff. They grab it and assume position, and make up the back of their small party.

On a better day, the shades would have been easy to defeat, but the small party is exhausted and caught off guard. Cassandra and Iseris vy for the demons’ attention, brutally bringing their swords and shields to bear, knocking the shades out of focus. Elliott assists by summoning barriers and letting ice flow from the tip of their staff.

Cassandra knocks a shade back, while Iseris bashes the other. Elliott charges, rushing forward in a cascade of ice, finishing off both with their back to the Seeker. They don’t have even a second to catch their breath before they’re wrenched around by Cassandra, staff knocked out of their hands onto the thick ice.

“Did I say you could have a weapon?” she growls. Iseris immediately steps to come to Elliott’s rescue, but the mage shakes their head, signaling their sister to not make another step. “You are still a prisoner!”

“I’m dangerous without a weapon, Seeker Pentaghast,” they quip, adopting an easy smile. “Even if you took the staff away, I could still do magic and cause trouble.”

A tense moment comes and goes. Hesitantly, Cassandra lets the mage go and heaves a sigh.

“Fine,” she says tensely. “These are dangerous times. I cannot always protect you, and neither can she.”

The Seeker looks toward a path buried in snow, and jerks her head toward it. “Come. We’re nearly to the camp.”

Elliott slings the staff over their back, smirking in slight victory as they follow behind the Seeker. Iseris makes up the behind, warily watching the procession.

 


End file.
